


put your hand in mind

by lionlannister



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bruises, Confessions of love, M/M, Marking, lots of talking about hands, stupid amounts of introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/pseuds/lionlannister
Summary: Maybe that’s what it was. To be in love during a war. Moments of terrible violence broken up by the smallest amount of kindness and gentleness.





	put your hand in mind

**Author's Note:**

> whatever i love to have fun

Carrillo’s hand is in his before either of them have long to think and it quickly turns into a handshake instead of anything more. And he knew that would happen, really, Steve was beside him and they were surrounded by members of Search Bloc not in the safety of Javi’s apartment or even alone in an office or car. Knowing that it could only be this way right here, right now doesn’t stop the memories of other times from coming into his mind as Carrillo pulls away and shoots him a look, something only for him that Javier carries inside him when the colonel turns to talk to Steve about something.

A large, calloused hand traveling down his back as they watched the sun set from Javi’s bed.  
Horacio’s fingers gripping his hand and pressing it against the mattress as he kissed down his neck.  
The way he never even hesitated to reach out and take his hand on mornings when he was trying to convince Javier out of bed.

Other images too. Less welcome. Less warm. Still a part of them.

Carrillo’s hands holding a bag that’s choking the life from a sicario as Javier watches and does nothing to intervene.  
Javier’s hand wrapped around a gun that had just fired into a man’s head and Carrillo tugging on his wrist to bring his attention back.  
Cleaning blood off each other’s faces.

Maybe that’s what it was. To be in love during a war. Moments of terrible violence broken up by the smallest amount of kindness and gentleness. Taking what you could get when you could. And he would. They would. For as long as they could until this war ended or one of them died or the blood between them finally drowned them both. But that hadn’t happened yet and Javier was counting on it not happening for a while. At least not while Escobar was still breathing, they could certainly keep breathing through the blood and smoke for that long. They had to. An officer approaching Steve pulls Javier out of his memories and musings, he seems to be getting lost in them more and more often these days. He hates that. Never once in his life has he been good at sitting and thinking, all he does is pour over his mistakes when he does, he’s much more comfortable in movement. The young man speaks in rapid fire Spanish and for a moment Javier is content to look at Carrillo with a smirk and refuse to translate for him, some act of punishment against Steve’s seemingly inability to pick up the language of the country. 

It’s Carrillo that takes pity on his partner, not before rolling his eyes, but he tells Steve that there are some documents for the DEA that need to be looked over and to follow the officer. “They’ll be in English for you, Murphy.” It’s impossible to miss the mocking in his voice and Javi barks out a laugh when Steve flips the colonel off as he follows the other into the building that housed Search Bloc. The moment they’re alone Horacio steps closer to him, not close enough to draw much attention, and not close enough to appease the hungry and desperate part of Javier, but closer. “Will he ever learn Spanish?” 

Nothing about that is suggestive but he is too aware of Horacio’s closeness and the deepness of his voice to stop the sharp inhale that happens once all of his attention is focused on Javier. “I think he understands more than he lets on sometimes but only when people are speaking slowly. He can’t speak it for shit though.” Tilting his head to look up at Horacio he shrugs, Steve is his partner which means he is loyal to him but Horacio is something else entirely and he’ll mock the other man as much as he pleases with Carrillo. “Besides, it’s fun to talk in front of him and watch his face.” That makes Horacio laugh a little and that happens so rarely, less and less as the days go by, that Javi wants to memorize exactly what he said to try and make him laugh again. 

He’s felt that laugh pressed against his neck, heard it late at night as they watch the stars, felt it against his back when they’re pretending to be asleep. There’s nothing about it that Javi has ever gotten used to hearing, often in his life he’s been able to charm his way out of trouble with people, could make them laugh and roll their eyes and let him go on his way. He’d taken it for granted. Not anymore. Not with this man. “Once I detailed a sex story to him and he just stared at me.” He wants to make him laugh again, that doesn’t do the trick but it does something else. Makes Horacio cock his head to the side, his eyes sharper.

“About who?”

There hasn’t been any room for jealousy between them. Neither of them bothered much with it. One of them was married and loved his wife, the other would’ve brought a new person home every night if he wasn’t waiting for a call from the person he most wanted to be with. But the look in his eyes is dangerously close to jealous and Javi wonders if that’s the look his wife gives him when he says he’s going to grab a drink with Javier. Horacio isn’t a cruel man, at least not to them. Javi’s never asked but he’s certain his wife knows about them. He hasn’t asked because he doesn’t want to know the answer. Either he’s a secret or he’s a second choice. Neither seems good to him.

Javi is spared from answering, for now, by Steve waving him over to where he’s reading some files. “Come over tonight and I’ll tell you.”

They don’t have the chance that night. Or the next. That’s common for them and so on the first night that they’re both actually free Javier isn’t actually expecting the other man to show up. They’re busy. He’s married. It’s fine. He can go up and pick someone up at a bar like he usually does, drag Steve out to act as a terrible clueless wingman that makes Javier look even better than he already does. But he isn’t. 

When there’s a knock on the door he forces himself up from the couch, trying to think of what excuse he’ll give Steve for not going out to the bar or up to his apartment for dinner. Not in the mood to spend time around a happily in love couple. It’s not Steve at the door though, it’s Horacio with his back against the wall beside his door and a hat covering his hair like he’s trying to avoid being seen. Maybe he is, probably he is. 

Javi smirks slightly as he moves out of the way to let him into the apartment and shuts the door behind him, locking it to avoid anyone interrupting them this time. “You didn’t call, I might’ve been busy.” He would’ve kicked them out, if anyone else had been here, he doesn’t ever tell him that but this man is a world class cop and Javier has always been certain that he knows that anyway. If he is given the choice of a night with anyone or an hour with Horacio? The choice is easy. 

“Are you?” His eyes search the apartment quickly like he genuinely hadn’t considered that possibility. “I can go.” His voice is so low, like he’s just above whispering to him even though they’re alone. It makes Javi shiver. Step closer to him and tangle a hand in the collar of his shirt as he uses the other to take his hat off and toss it to the side. 

“Shut up.” He doesn’t say that he wants him to stay, that he would do whatever i took to keep him here, just tells him to shut up and pulls at the grip on his collar to kiss him, tugs at him until there’s no distance between them and Javi is surrounded by him. There’s a warmth the comes off him in waves, maybe people think he’s cold but they don’t know Horacio Carrillo like he does, his hands are always hot and when he sleeps beside Javi it’s like having a heater pressed to him. It’s perfect. It’s the best of the warmest day in Colombia, it’s the heat of a man willing to do anything it takes to protect his country. It makes Javier feel like he’s actually a part of something big and important. 

When his hands press into Javi’s lower back he groans into the kiss. His hands. Hands that have touched him so gently, that have shoved his shoulder playfully, that have pinned him down. Hands that have been covered in blood more times than he can count and have never shook from disgust at the sight. How could anyone ever look at him and see only one of those parts? Both of them are present. Both of them make Javier love him. Bloody and terrible or laughing and gentle, he wants them both, and all of that seems concentrated in his hands that are currently pull up his shirt and brushing against the sides of his chest. He has to lift his hands away from Horacio to let him pull his shirt off his head and onto the floor and the colonel takes advantage of his momentary helplessness to turn them around and press him against the wall. “Tell me, the story you told Steve, you said you would. Who was it about, Javier?”

This man has tortured people to death. He’s watched with unfeeling eyes as people fell from helicopters. He sounds jealous of someone else touching him even though neither of them have ever pretended they didn’t sleep other people. Javi feels like he could get high on that alone. Maybe he could drag it out, lie to him, and keep his attention that focused. “You.” Or not. Looking into his eyes now he knows why people break before he ever touches them. Though he supposed he doesn’t count in that group, he’s touched Javi plenty, he’s touching him right now. Different certainly but the same hands. 

“I didn’t use your name.” He answers the next question before he has the chance to ask and ruin the mood. Steve has long since stopped looking even vaguely surprised when Javier brings up being with men. But he doesn’t ask for names if Javi doesn’t offer them though he certainly knows about this particular man. That answer seems to appease some of the look in his eyes, to Javi’s dismay, and he kisses him again. It keeps coming back to the hands and now one of them is on his jaw, tilting his head up to the angle Horacio wants. 

They kiss there until Javi has to pull away to breathe for a moment, certain that he looks a mess already. “Come on, we can do this better in my room.” Their fingers wrap together whew Javi pulls the hand off his jaw. He feels their warmth and roughness. He feels all of it, craves it.

He would’ve left his shirt where it fell on the ground but Horacio was a neater person than Javier and he leaned down to pick it up in his free hand to carry it into the bedroom. 

Horacio even goes so far to fold the shirt and put it on top of his dresser, it makes Javi want to tear his clothes off and push him onto the bed. He doesn’t. Instead he presses himself against his back and kissed the back of his neck, pulling his shirt collar down to reach more skin. “Come on. Fuck the shirt.” 

The other man nodded as he turned around, letting their foreheads touch and stay there. “I’m glad it was me.” He almost sounds surprised by the words and he doesn’t expand on it, Javi doesn’t ask him too. This already feels like dangerous territory. 

Nodding, Javi took hold of his hand once more and put it back on his jaw so that he could feel his fingers again, he found himself missing them when they were gone. How many men would say that about his hands? Probably not outside of this room. There are bruises on Horacio’s knuckles from two days ago, Javier had watched him get them on the cheeks of a sicario. Now he kissed the hand on his jaw and rubbed his thumbs over the bruises on the other one. 

“It was that night we took your truck out and parked it up in the mountains. Remember?” The way he’d said it to Steve had made it sound different, he hadn’t wanted to let him now how important it had been to him. “We got drunk and it started to rain so we had to get into the car instead of the back.” He was pulling Horacio back now, towards the bed until he could get both of them on it, never taking their hands off each other. There was a hand tangled in his hair and another wrapping around his thigh as they pressed themselves together. Javi unable to stop his hands from moving, he can’t pick which part of the other man he wants to touch the most.

There’s a moment of silence between them before Horacio nods, not saying a word like he’s afraid to break this moment between them. Javi is too so he doesn’t reply just kisses him, not for a long moment and not letting himself be pulled into making it more intense. Something is stopping him from just tugging the other man’s clothes off, pulling him on top of him, and forgetting about the war for a little while. He can, they can, in other ways. Nights where they don’t fall into bed, or wherever they can find some privacy, and just sit at a bar hanging out. He wants that as much as he wants this man inside him. Tonight he wants something between the two though he has no idea how to ask. 

His room was dark, neither of them had bothered to turn on the lights and the little bit of light from the street was filtered through the curtains that Connie had made him buy when she had walked past his window one day and seen him naked. But there’s enough light for him to see the way Horacio’s eyes move over him, the way his muscles tense and shiver wherever Javier’s fingers move across him. His traitor brain wonders if he does the same thing when his wife touches him. Thankfully he manages to hold that thought inside. Unwilling to ruin the mood with his newfound sense of jealousy. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on that instead pushing at Horacio’s shoulders until he’s on his back on the bed and Javi can settle himself over him with his knees on either side of his thighs. “Tell me you remember.” The nod was answer enough, on any other night he would’ve accepted that as an answer and not pressed for more. Tonight he is though. 

The momentary surprise on his face is enough to make Javier look away, embarrassed at his request. He’s never done this before, never tried reaching his hand out from some confirmation of affection. They knew what they meant to each other even if they rarely spoke of it sober. But tonight he needs to hear it, tonight he needs to erase the image of Horacio only shaking his hand even though he knew that was how it had to be. “I remember, you tried to make me stay out in the rain with you so I had to pull you into the car. You were soaked.” The man underneath him laughs, Javi feels it in his thighs. Feels it everywhere. “You looked beautiful. And like an idiot.” How he says both of those things with the same level of intensity and genuine affection Javier doesn’t know but he’ll take it. 

“Kiss me.” Maybe Javi doesn’t have the same commanding presence as Horacio but he’s still made people listen to him before. Does it again here when it only takes the one request for Horacio to sit up and wrap his arms around his waist to tug him closer and kiss him. It’s slow, drawn out, and Javier lets himself think that they have the time and ability to do this every night and morning. Even if they can’t, it’s nice to pretend sometimes. 

Sighing into the kiss was the only thing he could do hen he felt Horacio’s hands spread out across his back, touching the scars he found there with his rough hands, Javi all but groaned against his lips. The other man was more than happy to take advantage of that and press for a deeper kiss, tilting his head to fit against Javi’s mouth and neither of them pulled away until they had to. Even then it was only far enough to breathe, breathing in each other in the stale air of his room. It lasts only a minute before Javier breaks the stillness by moving up slightly, further into his lap, so that he can press his lips to Horacio’s forehead. Gentleness in a world that doesn’t allow much of it for a man that has had to destroy much of his softness. 

When Horacio starts to speak next it’s so soft that Javier has to lean back down to hear him. “You fell asleep on my chest, soaked my shirt through.” He didn’t remember that, his last memory of that night had been making out in the backseat of the truck but he believes Carrillo, there’s too much emotion in his voice for Javi to believe he’s lying. “I loved you so much at that moment it was ridiculous.” 

Javi inhales so sharply that the man underneath him goes silent and he regrets making any noise. They didn’t do that, say that, not really ever. They both new how they felt but it was safer, easier if they didn’t say it. But hadn’t that been the reason Javier had brought up that night? Craving some words that they usually kept tight to their chest. “Horacio,” he whispers his name before kissing him, hoping that his intent is clear, that his feelings are clear, in the way he pushes him back down onto the bed and kisses him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.

He throws all of himself into the kiss, hands landing on the bed beside the other man’s head and pressing himself down against Horacio’s still covered cock, letting himself feel a stab of pride at how hard he already was even with both of them still wearing pants. Horacio is laid out on his bed, a perfect sight if Javier could be bothered to open his eyes, but right now he is far too focused on kissing him, on tasting the way he moans into his mouth when Javi’s teeth bit gently into his lower lip and how he presses his hips up into him when Javi moves his mouth to kissing along the line of his beautiful neck. “Are you going to make me finish in my pants like a teenager?” There’s enough amusement in his voice that Javi almost, almost, misses the current of real fear. 

That makes him laugh. Colonel Horacio Carrillo, the only man in the entire country, maybe the entire world, that Pablo Escobar is afraid of. And he sounds nervous that Javier is going to grind against him until he finishes instead of giving them both something that would be far more pleasurable. “No, I wasn’t planning on it. Though I’ve thought about it before.” And he has. The tenderness that had built up between them since he had answered the door was still there, still tugging at his heart just as much, but now he felt like he could breathe again. No matter what else lived between them they were friends. They could laugh together. “I’ll have to move to take off my pants.” 

Neither of them seem overly okay with that idea considering the way Horacio’s arms tighten around his waist and the way Javi leans in to kiss him again, relishing in the way he can’t take his hands off him. Suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder, shoving him gently away so that both of them can sit up. “Do that now, before we both get too distracted.” He likes the way that Horacio’s voice has gone rough from their kissing, from how much he wants him, and Javi is powerless to resist that. Pulling himself off of Horacio he fell onto the other side of the bed so that he could tug and kick his pants off, and throw them onto the floor. The somewhat peeved sigh that came from the man beside him filled him with fondness and he looked over to him with a wide, pleased, smile. 

When he see that Horacio is pulling his own pants off however he moves, pressing his hands into the other man’s to stop his movement. “Don’t, let me.” His nakedness and the level of want in his eyes seems to be enough to get the other man to no and drop his hands back onto the bed as Javi climbs onto him again, not placing his weight on him so that he can have room to push the pants out of the way. Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat he leaned down to press a kiss to the bottom of his stomach over the dusting of hair leading down to his jeans. “Touch me, please, I need you to touch me.” He can’t seem to look up at the other man as he asks this, afraid of the answer until the moment he feels hands on him again, in his hair and running down his neck, touching his shoulders, touching everything they can reach. The touch is enough to anchor him, to keep him from feeling like this isn’t really happening. Even if this has happened before Javi has to remind himself it’s real, he’s real, every single time. 

It takes a level of self control he hadn’t been sure he possessed to push Carrillo’s pants down without letting his hands shake as much as they want to, what is going on with him tonight? They’ve done this a thousand times. But tonight it feels like they’ve been stumbling around one another for years, trying to get a hand on other other one but always afraid of them slipping away until finally one of them grew the courage. He remembers the first time, when Carrillo’s hands had been unsure on his waist and Javi had to whisper to him that this was okay, that they could do this and nothing would happen to them. He’d said those things knowing they were a lie but he’d been so desperate to keep him close. It was the only time he’d really lied to him. “Javier.” The whisper of his name draws his attention back somewhat, but when he looks up he sees that Horacio has his head on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling instead of at him. “Javier.” He repeats his name like he’s asking for something, maybe like he’s praying. Javi can’t tell, but he kisses his thigh, just a soft press of his lips to the skin right next to his cock. Horacio tries, fails, to swallow the way he moans and presses his hips up into him. 

All his thoughts are running in his mind, he can’t decide what he wants to do when before he thought he knew. He wants to take his cock into his mouth and hear the way that Horacio moans his name, he wants to wrap his fingers around both of them and see his fingers cling to the sheet. He wants to ride him until Horacio’s fingers leave bruises on his waist. All of it. Every single one. He wants the entire world with this man. That wins. The image of his face. His hands. The way his muscles tense. 

They aren’t going to have the world. But they have this room. “Get the things out of the drawer.” He doesn’t feel the need to point to the drawer, Horacio knows which one it is. And he moves quickly, one of his thighs moving up as he twisted himself onto his side and Javi took the offered skin and bite into it hard enough he was sure to leave a mark. Horacio groaned, dropped the lube he’d grabbed onto the bed and grabbed onto Javier’s shoulders to pull him up into a true kiss. Letting himself settle onto the other man’s lap again he was kissed senesless, kissed until he couldn’t breathe and for a long moment he was pretty sure he didn’t need air as much as he needed this kiss. The hand on the back of his neck keeps him from going anywhere and they both seem to lose themselves in the kiss, teeth against his lower lip and the feelings of Horacio’s muscles under him are enough to make him whine. Actually whine. Horacio has the grace not to laugh at him, or maybe he thought it was hot and didn’t want to make it stop. 

He doesn’t stop, just lets himself be kissed and lets himself whine into the kiss as Horacio’s hand moves down his back to paw at his ass. Which is how he remembers he’s still wearing pants, because he has to press his fingers underneath them to actually get to his skin. He shoves himself away, hands planted firmly on the other man’s chest for a moment, both of them looking at each other in silence. Both of them learning to breathe again. “Pants.” Horacio’s voice is rough, he sounds similar to that when he’s at his most dangerous, when he’s killed someone or is about to, when he has someone right where he wants them. That shouldn’t mae Javi grow even harder but it does and he presses himself down against his cock to let Horacio feel the way his words get into his head. “Fuck, Javi, come on.” There’s still a hand on his ass but now it’s squeezing him, pulling him closer to Horacio despite the way his words seem to be urging him to move. 

But he pulls away after a moment, relishing on the way that Horacio reaches for him the moment he’s away from him, giving in slightly he reached out with his hand to let Horacio take that as he pushed his pants and boxers down to the edge of the bed. They fell onto the ground. He’s certain Horacio will pick them up later, but for now he’s tugging on the hand holding onto his to bring him back to him. “You’re beautiful.” Horacio is the only man that can say that to him and Javi doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes. The only man that can say it and Javi believes he means it. “So beautiful, all mine.” He does that sometimes. Claims him. Usually he does it with teeth against his neck. But now he does it with his eyes. That might mark him even more than the teeth or his hands ever do. Javi still wants both. Eyes and teeth. Hands too. All of him.

Javier wants to feel Horacio inside him long after they’ve left this bedroom. He leans down, presses his lips to Horacio’s jaw at the same time he grabs onto the lube beside them. “Yes, Horacio, I’m yours.” That’s a dangerous promise to give in the world they live in, but he’ll give this man anything he asks for and more. He pops the cap open as he kisses his way down the man’s jaw and slicking one of his own fingers before reaching behind him to slip it into himself. Javi notices the moment that Horacio realizes what he’s doing because one of his hands comes presses into his waist. He uses that hand to press and pull, to move Javier into his own finger, like he’s imagining it’s his cock inside him. Javier sure is. 

He should take more time with himself, he knows how big Horacio is, how he stretches him open, but that’s exactly what he wants. So he rushes this part, pushes another finger into himself, lets Horacio hear him groan. Both of them lose patience, that much is clear when Horacio sits up from the bed, brining Javier with him, and sets his teeth into his neck. That mark will certainly show in the morning. “I want you.” He whispers the words into Horacio’s hair, knows that he can hear him by the way he shivers and nods where his lips are against Javi’s skin. “You’re all I ever want.” Another dangerous promise, but again he offers it freely. 

It’s not that Javier doesn’t sleep around. He does. But Horacio is the one he always wishes he was with. When he gives in to what they both want, letting Horacio grip his own cock as Javi slides down onto him he keeps his eyes on the other man’s face, taking in every twitch and moan that he lets slip. They’re face to face, pressed as close as they can be and it’s not nearly enough until Horacio is fully inside him, until he feels himself split open around him.

They’re so close together now, arms around Javi’s waist to keep him where he is as they both get used to the feeling of Horacio’s cock inside him again, and Javier’s hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “Fucking perfect, always feels perfect.” He isn't sure Horacio knows he’s even talking let alone what he’s saying. But Javi takes those words to heart. “Could stay like this forever, Javi.” 

“You should. We should.” They will never be allowed to do that, the DEA will call, Colombia will call. The world would hate them. But they can imagine sometimes, right? He starts to move slowly, using his thighs to move up on the cock inside him before slowly falling back down onto him. He listens to the sounds that come from the other man, the moans and groans and whispers of Javi’s name. “Lay back, I want to look at you.”

He does. He’s perfect. Laid out on Javi’s bed. With his mouth open and eyes so dark he’s surprised there aren’t stars in them. Javier wants. He wants everything. “You-“ He doesn’t know what he starts to say so he opts for silence and picking up the pace he’s using on him. They’re both panting, as he rides him faster but Javi can’t tear his eyes away from Horacio’s face.

The hands on his hips are tight, exactly what he wanted, they’ll leave bruises for sure. Ones that he’ll feel for a few days when he inevitably reaches down to press his own fingers against the marks. He’s done that before. Sitting at his desk. Talking to Steve. He presses his fingers to those bruises or to a hickey. Felt the way it made his heart rate skyrocket. But not nearly as much as it does when it’s Horacio’s hands making the bruises. 

“Javier. I-.” There’s something bright in his eyes now, something dangerous and beautiful just like him. 

Javi reaches down to wrap his own hand around his cock, in time with his thrusts he fucked into his hand. Horacio arched his back off the bed, using his grip on Javi’s thighs to thrust up into him making Javier’s moans grow louder and louder. The walls here are thick enough but he’s nearly certain Steve and Connie will be able to hear the way he’s moaning. Steve won’t ask. Connie will wink at him. Neither of them will know it was a man in here. At least not for sure. 

One of the hands on his hip moves to cover where Javi has wrapped a hand around his cock, making him pick up speed. “I want to watch you come, Javi.” His voice is wrecked, he sounds like he’s been yelling at someone. Javier loves being the only man that can make him sound like that. 

“Then fuck me.” The words are barely out before he’s flipped onto his back, Horacio above him now and pressing him into the mattress as he fucks into him. There are teeth in his neck, a hand on his cock, and he doesn’t even try and hold back anymore. 

His own hands move to Horacio’s back, leaving marks on his skin to match the ones he’ll be covered in. It’s the lips against his neck that make him realize the colonel is speaking, whispering, against him. The words aren’t clear but Javi has heard them before. Repetitions of his name. Of the word mine of I love you. 

The love is his undoing, always has been. Javier comes with a shout, his nails digging into the skin at the top of Horacio’s back. 

Horacio finishes with Javier’s lips against his temple. He makes sure that he can hear when he whispers his love. He collapses on top of him and Javi would keep him there for a long time if he could. 

“Can you stay tonight?” He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as desperate as he is. 

But when Horacio nods he nearly cries out again. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
